


Gods and Boys

by bluuskye



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, also bubble tea, cute fluff thing, lots of gay panic, pls enjoy, taekwondo god oh sehun?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22406761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluuskye/pseuds/bluuskye
Summary: Hot Taekwondo God Oh Sehun just made Jongin's summer holiday a whole lot better.
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Oh Sehun
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	1. One

This is _not_ how Jongin expected his summer vacation to go.

Head in his hands, he watches his niece drag her paint-soaked stuffy along the wooden floor, her hands, clothes, face, _hair!_ all dripping paint. Bright, orange paint. He’d been put on babysitting duty, one of the few chores he’d been assigned as payment for being allowed to spend his holidays with his sister in her (disgustingly humid) beachside cottage.

His six-year-old niece, Rahee, looks up at Jongin, beaming with all eight of her teeth. “Uncle Nni!” she said and reaches for him with her orange palms. He shrieks, swiftly moving away and attempting to pluck the stuffy out of her hands— but she has her tiny fists balled up so tightly into the paint matted fur that he ends up yanking at the girl with the toy.

Rahee stumbles headfirst into the hard metal of the table leg, before falling back hard on her butt. Her eyes widen, and Jongin _knows_ it is the calm before the storm. “Rahee—” but she is already screaming, wailing her little heart out at the shock of it all, and Jongin is helpless, orange paint dripping down his jeans as he feels his own heart wrench.

He is just kneeling, moving to gather the girl into his arms when the door swings open and there’s his sister. Rahee’s screaming, somehow, gets louder at the sight of her mother and Jongin realizes with some dread that there’s a growing bump on the girl’s head. “Baby?!” Jongin’s sister is instantly on her knees, uncaring it seems, for all the orange paint, the snot, the tears. “Jongin, what the f— Rahee, baby, it’s okay…” She coos, rocking Rahee and kissing her tear-streaked cheeks, rubbing her back and glaring at Jongin all at the same time.

“I— she…” he can only open his mouth and close it, dropping his gaze to his feet and looking as intensely apologetic as he can.

“Take Raeon to Taekwondo.” his sister snaps, motioning over to her elder son who was still standing by the doorway.

“But—”

“Now, Jongin.” her tone is a full-stop in itself, and Jongin drags himself to the door, taking Raeon’s hand in his and his bag in the other, somehow glad to be away from the orange. “Let’s go, bud.”

\--

His nephew is quiet, swinging their interlocked hands as they walk down the street to his Taekwondo class. Raeon, nine years old, is clad in his tiny white outfit, a yellow belt tight around his waist and a happy skip in his step. “You excited for class?” Jongin asks, swallowing down the urge to shove the tiny boy in his pocket and run away.

“Yes!” He squeals, nodding so aggressively that his curly hair bounces in time. “ _Ssaem_ said today he’s going to teach us some new moves!” The boy’s excitement is enthusiastic, and Jongin has the biggest grin on his face just watching his nephew tell him about his new best friend.

They reach the Taekwondo classes, held every day in the sports academy after class hours. Raeon spots his friend and immediately bounds off to tackle him in what is definitely the world’s biggest hug. Jongin hides a chuckle into the back of his hand and goes over to the boy, pressing the bag into his little hand. “I’ll be here to pick you up in an hour, okay?” He says, and turns to leave—

But Raeon is gripping at his wrist, tugging at him. “No, you’re supposed to stay!” The boy says. “Ma always stays with me for the class…” Jongin senses a pout beginning to form, and he has never agreed to anything faster. “I’ll stay!” he says, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Gotta watch you make those moves, right?”

\--

Now, _this_ is how Jongin expected his summer vacation to go. He has a hand supporting his chin, thumb at the corner of his lips to wipe off drool if any.

Goddamn _._

The man is a fucking _masterpiece_. He watches, with Raeon’s bag placed conveniently on his lap as the God of Taekwondo attempts to teach the tiniest five-year-old how to punch just right. The little girl barely comes up to the man’s thigh, and her little fist seems minuscule in her teacher’s giant… hands. _Such big hands,_ Jongin thinks. Big enough for his fingers to meet if he ever decided to wrap his hands around—

“Uncle Jjonini!”

Raeon bodyslams into him with all the speed and strength of a tiny bullet train, and all the breath (and every erotic thought ever) is knocked out of Jongin. “Did you see? I did the punch so good, did you see?”

“Uh?” Jongin tears his attention away from The God, who has now moved on to a demonstration of a _kick—_ and he realizes that this man is not only ripped but also flexible enough to smoothly bring all seventeen feet of leg up in an arc so easy that even _he,_ dancer—

“UNCLE.” Raeon’s voice pierces through his little fantasy, and Jongin startles back to reality.

“What— what, buddy?” Jongin looks down at his panting, sweaty nephew.

“I’m going to go play with my friend,” he announces, in all seriousness.

“What… okay, go!” Jongin says, patting Raeon’s butt. “Go, play, come back whenever you want.” He says, realizing that he now has a valid reason to stay and ogle this… this _man,_ who is now practising with another grown man. Jongin can barely keep up with the man’s movements, they’re so fast.

He watches the teacher feign a step forward, his opponent reacting instantly to block what he thinks will be a punch, but the God, being the _God_ that he is, twists his body, his foot slamming into the side of his opponent’s face. The other man’s head snaps to the side before he falls to the floor in a clear knockout.

The teacher looks like he just took a walk in the park while Jongin is breathless; cheeks flushed and heart pounding like he was the one who took the beating. This is _it,_ he thinks, hearing his heartbeat thrum in his ear. And then the God looks at him—right at him. _Straight_ in the eye and Jongin’s heart has stopped beating altogether.

Before Jongin’s face explodes from the blood that’s accumulating in his cheeks, the God’s lips curl into a smirk and he turns away, focusing his attention on the other man he’d just fought with. He looks away to see Raeon run over to him, so tired that all he does is lean against Jongin’s arm. 

Jongin clears his throat, realizing the teachers were packing up and the other parents were taking their children away. “Let’s go home?” Jongin suggests, running his fingers through Raeon’s sweaty hair. Raeon nods, wiping his face against Jongin’s shirt.

\--

Jongin takes on official Taekwondo duty. Over the rest of the day and the next, he learns from his nephew that God of Taekwondo also went by _Oh Sehun,_ and he was in fact, younger than Jongin by a few months—but younger nonetheless. He was also very helpfully informed that Sehun lived only a few blocks away, meaning Jongin could possibly just step out of his house and get an eyeful of hot shirtless Taekwondo God maybe washing his car, water dripping down his abs all the way down to his—

“JONGIN.”

He snaps out of his daydream, looking up at his sister balancing Rahee on her hip and staring down at him. “Are you taking Raeon to Taekwondo, or should I?”

“No! No, I’ll do it,” he says, a bit too fast for his liking. He scrambles up to his feet, taking Raeon’s hand in his and his bag in the other and speeding out the door before his sister can question.

Raeon stumbles along after him, his tiny legs no match for Jongin’s long strides. His thoughts are on the teacher, on getting there _faster_ so he may bless his eyeballs with the vision that is Oh Sehun. Taekwondo God. It is only when Raeon slaps Jongin’s thigh, pulling at his hand to make him slow _down_ that the older grins sheepishly and takes smaller, slower steps.

They reach just in time, and Jongin sinks down in the same spot he’d sat at yesterday, bag on his lap. He scans the room for the teacher, heart sinking a little when he realizes he isn’t there, lips unconsciously pushed into a small pout. Jongin leans back against the wall, looking over at his nephew. Raeon is being guided into a kick by one of the female teachers, and a fond smile blossoms on Jongin’s lips. The boy is focused on getting his little leg as high up as it will go, fingers tightly fisted at his sides. The teacher coos praise at him, and Jongin knows Raeon will come up to him afterwards, all giddy and excited about his _amazing kick!_

Oh Sehun breezes into the class forty-five minutes late not dressed in his uniform, but in a black shirt, black jeans, backpack and shades—an entire meal on legs. Jongin cannot tear his eyes away. He watches as Sehun offers sheepish apologies to the other teachers, rushing into the locker rooms, probably to change into his uniform.

Jongin is content with just creepily watching him from the side-lines. This is how the rest of his summer vacation will go, he decides. Ogling hot Taekwondo God, and keeping Rahee away from the paint. Maybe he can make up a fairy-tale summer fling romance to tell Baekhyun when he goes back home.

He is already inventing the details: maybe Oh Sehun winked at him the first time they made eye contact. Maybe Jongin winked back and the Taekwondo God fell head over heels for Jongin’s sexy demeanour and—

A shriek cuts through Jongin’s thoughts, and instantly, he is on his feet.

_Rahee._

His eyes land on his small nephew, neatly curled up into a shaking ball. Jongin bounds over to the boy, dropping to his knees and scooping Rahee up into his arms. “What happened, where does it hurt?” Jongin asks. His voice is soft, trying to pry Rahee’s arms from around his knees.

Jongin is so concerned, so blind with worry that he does not notice someone kneel beside him. It is only when he hears a soft, deep voice emerge from the kneeling figure that he realizes _Oh Sehun is next to him._ If he didn’t have a sobbing Rahee in his arms, Jongin would have properly passed out. He holds Rahee close, trying to understand where the boy was hurt without having to poke and prod.

“I think I saw him fall.” Sehun says. “He must have hurt his knee…”

Jongin feels his heart wrench at the thought. “Rahee, buddy,” Jongin coos and the boy’s arms finally come undone to reveal a slowly swelling ankle, a scraped knee and cheeks wet with tears. 

He thinks he hears Sehun ask someone to get the first-aid box but he isn’t sure. He is too busy wiping at Rahee’s tears with his sleeve, carefully pulling the hem of the boy’s pants up so he can get a better look at his leg. Rahee’s fist is tightly clenched around Jongin’s shirt, holding on for his life, and Jongin can only guess how much pain the little guy must be in.

Someone pushes a first-aid box into Sehun’s hands and for the first time, Jongin lifts his gaze to the man next to him. _His fingers._ The act of opening that tattered first-aid kit is practically ballet in Sehun’s deft hands.

Jongin swallows, snapping back to reality.

Rahee has quieted down, sniffling into Jongin’s shoulder, getting snot all over his uncle’s t-shirt. Jongin pats his nephew’s back as Sehun gently presses an ice pack onto Rahee’s ankle, pressing it down with a technique that tells Jongin he is used to these small injuries. He moves to the boy’s knee, and Sehun glances up at Jongin, seeking permission. Rahee’s knee is scraped through the skin; Sehun will have to disinfect with alcohol and Jongin knows that shit burns.

Jongin nods, tightening his grip on Rahee’s little hand.

But he’s strong, his small nephew. All he does is whine a little, jerk his knee once and grit his teeth through the pain. Jongin has never been prouder. Sehun pats Rahee’s uninjured knee with a similar proud smile. “You did so good, Rahee.” Sehun says, and maybe Jongin’s heart skipped a beat.

\--

Rahee crawls into Jongin’s lap, waiting out the rest of the class curled up against his uncle. Jongin carefully holds the ice-pack to his ankle and lets him play Candy Crush on his phone.

“Wait no, move the red thing there so you can get the—”

“How’s the knee, lil guy?” Jongin looks up to see the teacher’s towering figure. Oh Sehun crouches down to look at Rahee, a warm smile on those perfect lips.

Rahee nods bravely, showing the teacher his carefully bandaged knee. “Kaichun said he’d buy me ice-cream on the way back,” The boy announces. Jongin is blushing and he cannot explain why.

“Kaichun?” He hears Sehun ask.

“Me, th-” Jongin’s voice sounds like literal nails on a chalkboard. He clears his throat, blush deepening. “That’s me.”

“Your name is… Kaichun?” Sehun looks up at him, pretty face twisted into perplexity. Then the worst thing that could ever happen to a grown teenage boy happens to Jongin. He _giggles._

“No! No, he just calls me Kaichun. I’m his uncle… _samcheon,_ and my nickname is Kai s.. so—” he clears his throat again. _What a fucking mess._

“So what is your name, then?” Sehun’s still smiling, _thank god._

“Jongin, I’m Jongin.” His face is about to melt off his skull.

“Kim Jongin.” Sehun’s smile widens, and his eyes scrunch up into little crescents and Jongin is so, _so_ smitten. “I’m Oh Sehun, I teach here.”

“I know,”

“You do?” Sehun’s smile wavers. His eyes squint at him. “How do you know my name, Kim Jongin?”

“I- I might’ve asked Rahee.” Jongin laughs, trying to ease the tension, but it comes out sheepish. Forced.

“You asked Rahee for my name?” Sehun tilts his head, and moves to fully sit down.

“Well— yeah.” Jongin looks up at him.

“Why…?” _Wait. He’s blushing._ Oh Sehun, hot Taekwondo God, is sitting opposite Jongin and _blushing._ The realization is like a shot of pure confidence into Jongin’s veins. 

_Cause you’re cute._ “Did you want to tell me, instead?” Jongin challenges, raising a playful eyebrow.

Sehun lets out a soft, surprised laugh. “Yeah, I did.” He confirms. “I saw you here yesterday.”

“I saw you, too.” Jongin laughs, and his heart is so warm. “You’ve got some fancy moves.”

“I may or may not have been trying to impress you.” Sehun’s cheeks grow pinker, and he is no longer Taekwondo God, but just a soft human boy that Jongin can now touch.

* * *

* * *


	2. Two

“How the fuck can you not like bubble tea.” Sehun has fully pulled Jongin aside, hands on his hips, eyes widened in offense. They’d decided to get a coffee after Taekwondo class, and Sehun was not taking this revelation well.

“I just—I don’t like it!” Jongin shrugs. “It tastes like liquid crap in my mouth.”

“ _How dare you!”_

At least four people turn to look at the two of them, and Jongin has to hold onto Sehun’s (surprisingly muscled) shoulder to shush him. “Stop being a drama queen,” Jongin giggles, and pushes the taller boy to sit down. “Shut up, sit here. I’ll get our drinks.”

Ten minutes later, Jongin slides into his seat opposite Sehun, pushing his repulsive drink to him.

“Do you have some kind of like… childhood trauma concerning bubble tea?” Sehun asks, making that dumb confused face again.

“What are you, Freud?” Jongin scoffs, taking a sip of his lemonade. “I just don’t like bubble tea. You’ve got to accept the facts—bubble tea is gross.”

Sehun lets out a string of offended noises, and Jongin’s smile brightens.

“You’re cute when you’re confused.” He says, over the rim of his glass. This only manages to fluster Sehun more, and he dips his bright red face to take an angry sip of his tea.

“Anyways,” Sehun sniffs. “Are you new here?”

“No, I’m here on summer break. I live in Seoul, my sister lives here.”

“Oh.” Sehun takes another thoughtful slurp. “So you’d leave in a month?”

“Well— yeah.” The realization puts a bit of a dampener on his giddy mood. “Why? Do you miss me already?” He grins, watching Sehun descend back into a blushing, flustered mess. “Do you go to university?” Jongin asks, offering the panicked boy an out.

“Yeah, I study--” A grimace. A _cute_ grimace. “…microbiology.”

This, for some reason, is hilarious to Jongin. He chokes over his lemonade, swallowing back what he knows is the ugliest laugh. “Do you have a thing for white uniforms, Sehuna?”

“Shut up, my mother thought it would be a stable degree to have.” Even he doesn’t believe in this, Jongin can tell.

“What would you do?” Jongin asks, resting his chin in his hands. “If given the chance, what would you have studied?”

The answer is instant. “Literature.”

“ _What?_ For real?”

“Yeah, I—” Sehun pauses and pulls his bag onto his lap, digging through it. He pulls out a fat novel with a flourish and pushes it over to Jongin. “See? I always have a book on me. Sort of like— if you laugh I’m pouring bubble tea in your hair— like a comfort blanket?”

But Jongin couldn’t have laughed if he tried.

_A comfort blanket?_

Tall, hot, muscled Taekwondo Manly Man has a novel for a comfort blanket. Jongin has to physically swallow back a coo. “That’s. That’s cute, I won’t lie.”

“What do you study in the big city?”

“I study performing arts, I’m majoring in dance.” At this, Sehun’s eyes widen—as most people’s do.

“You’re a dancer?” He asks in a voice soft with… is it reverence?

“Yeah, I guess? I dance, I like dancing.” Jongin stirs his lemonade with the straw. “If you ever come by Seoul, you should come watch. We have performances like every month.”

“What kind of dance?” Sehun seems genuinely interested, and Jongin pretends he cannot feel the little flutter in his tummy.

“I started out with ballet—but I’ve been practicing a lot of the other styles, too; contemporary, freestyle, lyrical. Jazz, even!” he makes jazz hands and instantly regrets it, shoving his hands back into his pockets where they belong.

Sehun snorts and chokes a little on his bubble tea. His beautiful face crumples into a fit of coughing—Jongin has to reach over and thump his back. “You okay there, baby?”

This sends Sehun coughing more, choking on his own saliva—bent over trying to contain himself.

“Goddamn, bubble tea gets to choke you before me?” Jongin mutters, earning a pained glare from poor, red Sehun. Jongin grins and sits back, sipping primly at his lemonade. Sehun sits back, having partially recovered. He wipes at his eyes with a tissue, clearing his throat.

“That never happened.” Sehun declares, shrinking back into his chair.

“Sure,” Jongin laughs. His lemonade is over—when did he finish it? Sehun is pushing his bubble tea away, a distasteful look on his features. “What? Don’t like bubble tea anymore?”

“Tastes different when it’s up your nose…” Sehun winces, rubbing at his chest. This earns him a victorious smirk from Jongin. “Look, someone’s calling you.” Sehun points out, and Jongin looks over at his phone. _Noona._

“Hello?”

“ _Jongin? Where are you, it’s so late?”_

“Huh—oh! Oh, I’m just… getting coffee with a friend. I’ll be home soon, what’s up?”

“ _It’s dinnertime, that’s what’s up! Get back home before I drag you back by your ear.”_

Jongin shudders visibly. “Jesus. Every day you remind me more and more of Mum.”

“ _Shut up. Get back home.”_

“Yes, ma’am,”

He hangs up and looks at Sehun, who has already adeptly read the situation. “Want me to walk you back home?”

\--

_He’s holding my hand._

Sehun’s hand is so warm around his, big enough that Jongin’s hand is drowning in it. He’d laced his fingers through Jongin’s hand easily as they walked back home. So easy, like they’d been holding hands all their lives.

They walk in silence, under the streetlights dotting the road. He feels Sehun’s thumb running over his knuckles, comforting and scary all at once.

Jongin’s home comes way too fast. He could have walked with Sehun like that forever, hand in hand; warm. Comfortable. “So…” Jongin says, tugging at Sehun’s hand. “This is me.” he says, motioning vaguely to the house behind them.

“Already?” Sehun’s face is a shadowy blur in the dim light of the streetlamps, but Jongin can hear the disappointment.

“Why, miss me already?” Jongin says, nudging the other with an elbow. But this time, his smile is softer.

“Shut up.” Sehun nudges Jongin back, and the two boys just stand there, smiling, giddy.

“Tomorrow?” Jongin asks, and Sehun nods instantly.

“Tomorrow.”

* * *

* * *


End file.
